


31/Three: The HQ Entries

by Crown_of_Winterthorne



Series: 31/Three Challenge (July 2016) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Polyamory, References to Sex, Tumblr drabbles, three paragraph drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:06:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7645972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crown_of_Winterthorne/pseuds/Crown_of_Winterthorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haikyuu!! based drabbles for the 31/Three Challenge issued by ThePlottingHousewife. "Write three paragraph drabbles for 31 days."</p><p>Various pairings, various ratings (nothing above Teen) and no major warnings that I can think of beyond what's in the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	31/Three: The HQ Entries

**Author's Note:**

> Titles/prompts are taken from a July journaling prompt I found on Pinterest.
> 
> Skipped numbers indicate I wrote for another fandom/original that day.
> 
> Also, this is my first foray into writing Haikyuu!! so I hope you all enjoy these little explorations. I'm still trying to get a handle on these boys.

**2\. Confer** (Hinata, no pairing)

Hinata compared everything to the feelings he had on the court. There was nothing better than when they all played in sync, when everything matched up and they dominated. Or when they won by the skin of their teeth, because that meant the other team was just as good. He loved to win against the best. Likewise, there was nothing worse than when they lost, not because of the loss itself, but because of the disappointment. He hated feeling like a failure. He hated seeing his teammates—his friends—feel that way. That was the worst.

But Hinata being Hinata, it was better to think about the good things on the court. Spiking the ball. Getting past blockers who seemed sometimes like they were nine feet tall. The view from above the net as he jumped. The impact of his hand against one of Kageyama's perfectly set tosses. These were the best things in the world to Hinata.

But the best? The absolute best thing ever? The first time one of the new first years called Hinata "senpai" he suddenly understood why Tanaka and Nishinoya had been so excited the first time he named them senpai. He wasn't just Hinata anymore—not that he had ever been "just" anything to his team—he was a second year now. He was a leader, a guide, a big brother. He was going to teach these new birds how to fly like crows. And _that_ was the best feeling _ever_.

* * *

**4\. Ponder** (AsaNoya)

There was a certain sense of wonder that came with examining the way their hands fit together. They were a study in contradictions, even at first glance. Tan versus pale. Big versus small. Even their calluses were in different places—it was rare that Nishinoya would ever strike the ball with his palm. That wasn't his job on the court, the way that it was Asahi's.

Noya's hand was easily swallowed in Asahi's grip; it took both of Noya's hands to engulf just one of Asahi's. They both had long fingers, and they laced together easily, like they were meant to fit together. But Noya's were still smaller, far more delicate and fragile when compared to Asahi's. Everything about Noya seemed more delicate than Asahi—on the surface, at least.

Because it was Asahi who needed to be held carefully, whose heart was fragile in those slim, pale hands. The enormity of the trust placed in him never failed to amaze Nishinoya, to take his breath away. He'd hurt Asahi before; he knew that. He didn't want to do it again, because next time, he wasn't sure that they'd be able to fit those pieces back together.

* * *

**9\. Innovate** (some introspective Ukai Keishin)

Innovate. It meant to change. To improve. If they were to do nothing, they would stagnate. If things remained the same, if they relied on the same plays, depended only on Hinata and Kageyama, then they would fail. Other teams were already wising up to their quicks and tricks, adapting far faster than Karasuno could.

That was why teams like Seijoh and Nekoma were the best. Why they would keep winning. If Karasuno wanted to keep up, never mind stand a shot at surviving the prelims, they needed to do the same. Needed to learn to adapt on and off the court, in practice and in real matches. They had to be quicker, think faster, hit harder, play smarter.

Ukai trusted that they could do it. It had been more than family pride or Sensei's dogged perseverance that kept him around. It hadn't even been those ungodly quicks. It had been this team, these young men and their drive. Their passion. They had the skills. They had the heart. If only he could figure out how to make all of the pieces fit together. If he could do that, Ukai knew that they wouldn't just be a powerhouse again. They'd be unstoppable

* * *

**11\. Movement** (AsaNoya)

Everyone else saw it before they did. It was all in the way they moved together, Suga would tell them later. After they figured it out, Suga would tell them that it had been painful to watch them continue on obliviously. To not interfere and help things along. The only reason they hadn't been confronted about it sooner was because Hinata, the single person on the team who was incapable of discretion, was equally oblivious.

It was the way that Nishinoya casually touched Asahi, his quick hands lingering over broad shoulders, fingers flicking at a loose lock of hair. The way that Asahi would lean into Noya when they spoke, his usually uneasy posture replaced with open gestures and comfortable smiles. When they started working on Noya's jump toss, it had become even more obvious. Even Hinata couldn't miss their chemistry when they started practicing that. They trusted each other. They completed each other. On the court. Off the court.

It took them awhile longer to notice it themselves. Noya would catch himself watching Asahi from the sidelines during practice, distracted by the way that he moved in the air as he reached for one of Kageyama's tosses. Asahi noticed the way that Noya dove fearlessly after the ball, admiring the way that he taught Hinata to do the same and blushing when he was caught watching. When they finally realized how easily they moved together, in sync and without hesitation, it was because they were both going in for the same kiss.

* * *

**13\. Illusion** (Intended as friendship, but it could also be BokuAkaa if you squint.)

Most of the time, it rolled right off of his back. Bokuto wasn't oblivious to the things that were said behind his back any more than he was the things that were said right to his face. He didn't even deny most of them. He was single-minded, generally optimistic and exuberant and Bokuto could understand how he might come off as simple-minded and annoying to others. Most of the time, he didn't care.

Sometimes, though, it was too much. Sometimes it built up and became a weight on his shoulders that he couldn't bear anymore. Everyone knew that Bokuto was also extraordinarily sensitive and even the most well-meaning criticism from his friends—his teammates—could hit hard. Sarcasm could strike especially deep. Despite being surrounded by friends who were fluent in sarcasm, despite knowing that they didn't intend to hurt him... Well, sometimes it was hard to differentiate between teasing and mean-spirited.

When Akaashi came out to join him on the gym steps, Bokuto didn't protest or turn away. He accepted the apology with a weak, lopsided smile and a shrug of his shoulders. He forgave easily. Everyone knew that too. And because Akaashi knew Bokuto so well, he sat down to stay beside him until Bokuto was willing to tell him about everything else that had gone wrong in the past few weeks. Until the weight had lifted and the fake smile turned real again.

* * *

**18\. Taking Care** (BokuAka)

Everyone else was still asleep, oblivious to the pair sitting up on their futons beside the window. They spoke in hushed tones, still awake even after a long, exhausting day of practice with the other schools.

"You're not stupid," Akaashi assured Bokuto, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. He was regrettably used to this, these late night bouts of anxiety brought on by trash talk that sometimes hit too close to home. It broke his heart, because this wasn't like Bokuto's dramatics on the court. This was real, creeping doubt that didn't suit someone so gregarious and generous as Bokuto.

"You're our captain. They don't make dumb guys captain, no matter how well they can spike," he said. Offered a small smile when Bokuto turned towards him, an echoing smile flickering on his own open, honest face. Akaashi leaned against him, taking one of Bokuto's hands to lace their fingers together. "I don't date stupid guys either, remember?"

* * *

**20\. Butterfly-wings** (BoKuroo)

Soft kisses that felt like they were barely there. The brush of eyelashes against his cheek and silky hair against his temple. Kuroo loved these moments. That they could be so gentle with each other would have surprised anyone who knew them. Sometimes it still surprised him.

Clever fingers traced patterns over his arm, feather light and making the fine hair there stand up on end as a shiver ran up his spine. If they'd had more time, if they'd been in a more private place than behind the Shinzen #3 gym, Kuroo would have stripped off both of their clothes and spent hours retaliating with his own hands and lips, laid butterfly-soft touches upon every inch of Bokuto's body.

Instead, they held back with these furtive kisses, vowing by silent agreement that they'd sneak out earlier the next night. There would never be enough time, even if they had the whole night, an entire week, a month. That surprised Kuroo too, that he wanted to have that time. All of it. All of Bokuto.

* * *

**23\. Intuitive** (BoKurooAka)

Akaashi always knew. Bokuto chalked it up to the fact that Akaashi was a setter. Setters just knew things. Where to toss. When to toss. Who to toss to. It made sense that that kind of intuition would carry through off the court. And of course he knew Bokuto best of all.

He couldn't apply the same reasoning to Kuroo. Bokuto had a feeling that Kuroo's ability to read people on the court had to do with his ability to read them off the court. He had plenty of practice with Kenma—their ability to read each other's minds was downright scary—and he enjoyed needling people. He always seemed to know how far was too far, when to tease and when to listen. Hanging around Bokuto and Akaashi seemed to have only sharpened that skill.

So it wasn't a surprise when they both sat down on either side of Bokuto and draped their arms around him, Kuroo's arm over his shoulders and Akaashi's slipping around his waist, the three of them fitting together like a puzzle. No one said anything. They didn't need to because they all felt the same way. There had been a melancholy around the place ever since Karasuno left, the first team to leave after summer training. It was the beginning of the end for them. They'd try to stretch it out for as long as they could, until their own teams were ready to leave. Until they had to return to regular life.

* * *

**27\. Restive** (BokuAkaa, referenced BoKurooAkaa; ties into a soon to be posted fic, or maybe drabble #23. Maybe both!)

The bus ride home wasn't very long, but they had claimed the back seat anyway, Bokuto stretched out across it with his head in Akaashi's lap, the two of them sharing a single pair of earbuds. If their teammates minded, no one said anything. It was a given at this point, that their setter and ace were inseparable, so moments like these were allowed privacy.

Even when Bokuto was still, he was never really still. Tapping fingers, a jiggling leg, fleeting micro-expressions that flew across his face as they tried to keep up with his thoughts. Akaashi had long ago grown used to ignoring those distracted smiles and wiggling limbs. Even as solemn as they were tonight, after saying good bye to Kuroo with the heavy realization that the next time they saw him, it would be at prelims, Bokuto was still twitchy. He grasped one of Akaashi's hands in his own, lacing and unlacing their fingers together upon the solid expanse of his chest.

Akaashi stroked Bokuto's hair, humming along with the music that played in his right ear. It was Kuroo's music, a playlist that the two of them listened to when they missed the other captain. It was heavy and fast, certainly nothing relaxing; Bokuto's foot tapped in time to the pounding beat. In spite of that, his eyes were closed as if to sleep–and failing miserably at the pretense. Akaashi smoothed his thumb over the crease between pale, highly arched brows, sighing softly and leaned back to watch the sunset outside the window. He couldn't sit still this time either.

* * *

**29a. Exploding** (BoKuroo NSFW-ish)

Their first time, it was awkward and fumbling and not very sexy at all. It wasn't embarrassing, because Bokuto had no shame and he refused to let Tetsurou be embarrassed about any of it, but it had been rushed and not well-thought out. It had been… not bad, but it wasn't much of anything that books and movies and manga had led them to believe either. There had been no fireworks, no marching band or bells, though there might have been a few bruises from falling off of the bed.

Their second time had been only marginally better. They had planned and been better prepared this time. There were no bruises this time, but still no fireworks, not even a sparkler. Oh, it had lasted longer and they both came away satisfied, but Tetsurou had the heavy feeling that it hadn't been _fun_ either. They had both been far too serious, concerned with doing things "right" and making it "special."

When the third time happened–and it was a given that there would be a third time, despite the mishaps and disappointments of the first two–it came about quite organically. A late movie at Tetsurou's place, a casual kiss that turned into more, a laughing quip about third times being charmed. Maybe it was, because they went slower than the first time and laughed more than the second. Clinging to each other (and finally understanding about those metaphorical fireworks), they were sure it was the laughter that did it, because that's who they were at heart, and it didn't matter if the sex was good or bad as long they were together and it was _fun_.

* * *

**29b. Exploding** (AsaNoya)

It was always a little bit of a surprise when they fought. Not because they didn't think it could happen–they both remembered the Date-Ko fight a little too well, too vividly–but because they simply forgot that it was possible. It was hard to say for sure, since they fought so rarely and because Asahi was good at hiding behind his self-effacing nature. Noya wasn't one to hold back if something was bothering him while Asahi was just the opposite.

Which, really, only meant that it was almost always Asahi who broke when one too many weights had been added to his shoulders. More often than not, he blamed himself, and more often than not, Noya refused to allow that. There was yelling. There were tears. They never let it go too far, fearful of goading each other towards a repeat of that day in the gym's store room. They were pretty sure that they both might break–and for good–if that happened.

Apologies came quickly, often accompanied by more tears and always by softer discussion. Noya was strong enough to be yelled at, to take the heat of Asahi's infrequent anger, knowing that it was never really him that Asahi was mad at. Knowing that he was the only one Asahi trusted to bear his weakness, his fears, his anger. Asahi carried so much on those wonderfully strong shoulders of his. Noya wouldn't let him do it alone.


End file.
